"You're a virtue," he answered quickly, reaching behind me and wrenching both lamp and book out of my hands, tossing them onto the bed. "Thus, you must be a member of the Court of Divine Blood, and as such, bound to uphold the laws therein. You wish for an accounting? I will give you one. The Hashmallim do not enter the mortal world unless it is to capture someone intended for destruction. Since I saved the lives of you and your friend by spiriting you away from under the nose of the Hashmallim, you are in my debt. I am calling in that debt, and the price shall be exculpation."

"I forgive you," Sarah said with breathy adoration, her eyes glowing as she gazed at him.

"The first thing I do after this guy is locked up is get you to a good head shrink," I told her.

"Woman!" the man roared, and grabbed me by the neck, hauling me up until my face was close to his. His eyes burned into mine, his breath skittering along my mouth.

"My name is Portia," I said without thinking. "I hate being referred to as if I was nothing but an object!"

"You push me too far, Portia!"

Sarah made faint mewing noises of distress as she pushed in close to us, her hands on his arms.

"You're assaulting me again." I waved my arms frantically for the lamp or book.

"Eee!" Sarah said, half demanding, half plaintive as she brushed her lips on his cheek.

The man turned his head slightly, and gave her another soul-piercing look. "You are not for me, sweet."

"Oh," she said, pulling away, an oddly content look on her face as she stood watching us.

"Stop hypnotizing—"

The man took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment, and twisted his body as I tried to knee him. Without dislodging his hold on my throat—nowhere near as debilitating as the first time he strangled me, but still inhibiting—he spun me around so I was pressed up against the wall, his body pinning me into submission. "I do not have time to play ridiculous games with you. You will exculpate me now, before I lose my temper."

"Fine," I said, exhausted, sore, and heartily tired of the handsome man whose mouth was close enough to kiss…and bothered by the fact that I could even think such a thought. "I forgive you for kidnapping us, assaulting me, and attempting to strangle me. Happy now?"

"Stop playing with me!" he snarled, his fingers tightening. "You have the Gift! I saw it! I demand my reward! I demand exculpation!"

"I forgive you!" I bellowed back at him, praying he would go away and be deranged with someone else.

He really was an incredibly handsome man…I firmly squelched that line of thought. Physical attractiveness had nothing to do with anything.

The man sighed, releasing me as he stepped back. I hadn't been aware that he had lifted me off the floor, but I slid down a few inches until my feet touched the floor, and kept on going when my legs gave out on me. I slumped against the wall, divided between the desire to cry and the urge to whack the man across the kneecaps with a blunt instrument.

"At last," he said, opening his arms. He stood that way for a moment, as if he was waiting for something, his ebony eyebrows pulling together as he looked down at himself. "It didn't work."

"What didn't work?" Sarah asked, watching him closely. I shot an unhappy glance at her as I got to my knees, hauling myself up onto the edge of the bed, where I clutched both the book and the lamp.

He looked at me, his eyes narrowing slightly. "When did you say you received the Gift?"

"What gift? No one has given me a gift."

"How long have you known her?" he asked Sarah. She plopped down onto the bed next to me. I was delighted to see that the smitten look was gone from her face, although her calm acceptance of the kidnapper was at odds with her very vocal threats to the local police about the actions her husband would take if the man was not caught promptly.

"Since seventh grade," she answered.

"Has she always been like this?"

"Obstinate, you mean?" Sarah smiled. "Stubborn? Unyielding?"

"Hey!" I objected, poking her in the hip with the book.

"Rigid and unimaginative and one-track-minded? Oh yes, she's always been that way."

The kidnapper looked at me, his lips pursing slightly. "Pity."

"I object to being talked about as if I'm not sitting right here!"

Sarah patted my hand. "She's also smart, very curious, has a soft spot for underdogs, and is unswervingly loyal to anyone she calls friend."

"I may have one less before the day is out," I grumbled, mollified by her praise.

"I see," the man said, frowning down at me. My fingers tightened around the base of the lamp.

Sarah laughed and put her arm around me. "She's also my best friend, and someone I trust with my life. If you need her help with something, she'll do everything she can to make it happen."

"Will you stop putting words in my mouth! I do not countenance criminals!"

"I am not a criminal," the man said with a thoughtful look at us both. He snagged the chair from the end of the bed and set it before the door, sitting on it with a belligerent look at me.

"I could scream for help, you know," I told him.

"No one would hear you over the noise," he answered. "I'm going to get at the truth if it takes me all night. When did you last see Hope?"

"Oh! The faery?" Sarah asked, clasping her hands together. "I can't believe I forgot about her! Portia said she saw her while I had run to town to get my camera. That would be about two—"

"Sarah." I cocked an eyebrow at her.

"I was just trying to be helpful."

I ignored that and leveled a long, hard look at the man sitting across from us. My first impressions of strength had not diminished at all by exposure to him. His face was all hard angles, high cheekbones and a blunt, square jaw doing as much as his obsidian eyes in imparting a sense of ruthless purpose. His skin was darker than that of an Anglo-Saxon, a warm, rich color that hinted at an exotic heritage. Gleaming black hair swept back from a widow's peak that no doubt had women swooning to run their fingers through the silky black curls. For a moment my fingers itched to do just that, but the thought died just as quickly as it had been born.

"If I answer your questions, will you leave?" I asked with a resigned sigh.

"Portia! You don't have to be rude!"

I gave her a look that should have made it clear what I thought of such a ridiculous statement, but years of close acquaintance have made Sarah immune to such things.

"I begin to think that there might be more here than I anticipated," the man answered. "But I will swear to you that I mean you no harm."

I hesitated a moment, weighing my options. It was true that the noise from the busy pub below would drown out any screams for help that we might make, but we weren't completely helpless. There was the fact that we were two against his one. If push came to shove, I could fling myself at the man while Sarah made her escape to bring help…except I wasn't so sure that in her present hypnotized state of mind she would run for help.

Clearly, the solution lay in a peaceful resolution of the situation. After we got the man out of my room, I'd call the police and they could deal with him. I'd give him a few minutes of twenty questions to lull him into a sense of control, then persuade him to exit the room.

"All right, I'll answer your questions…er…what is your name?"

"Theo North. When did you last see Hope?" he repeated.

"What a nice name," Sarah said with perky cheerfulness. "Theo. Warm and friendly. Short. A little different. I like it."

I did too, as a matter of fact, but I wasn't going to let him know that. "I saw Hope for the first and only time about two this afternoon, for approximately five minutes. At the time, I was under the impression—yet to be disproved to my satisfaction, given that lab tests can be mixed up, altered, or deliberately changed—that Hope was part of my hallucinations."